Cutter
by Storm Alchemist
Summary: Roy is found bleeding on the bathroom floor, six cuts on each wrist and multiple selfinflicted stab wounds in his chest. Maes finds him, but that doesn't stop the pain from consuming his soul. R&R making into series thingy
1. Chapter 1

Pale eyes move slowly across the ceiling, full of cheery blood that seeps down into he cracks of the bathroom floor. If he acted now there might be hope to heal his wounds, winding bandages back around his wrists where the pain still stung.

"Someone," he wheezed dryly, not a real attempt to talk; he was only testing his voice to see if he had the nerve to use his senses. Unfortunately he had locked his door, if there was any hope then he needed to get up.

There was an attempted rolling over, but as he did he noticed his hands numb and covered in red juice. No, it couldn't be blood, not that much already. The eyes shut.

"Roy?" Maes called, his eyes flashing with the flame of fear. "It's all going to be alright Roy, it's going to be alright. It's going to be alright," Maes kept repeating this, although he knew that it was more of a comfort to him.

He stomped straight into Roy's blood, and it splashed up his legs.

Roy felt strong arms lift him up, making him feel like he was floating away. What a beautiful thing it is to float away, how strong you can feel. Although he couldn't see or talk or hear a thing, he still felt the love that burned inside him grow.

"Roy, don't die... we need each other," Hughes sighed melancholically, holding the man closer to him and staining his jacket as if he had spilled red whine. To Maes, Roy's blood was sweeter that whine, he longed to save him completely from himself.

"M-m," a murmur came whispering from the dying man's lips, almost a cry for love and protection. And cry he did, but Maes would not tell him that he was weak. "Mae," he said again, but this time contracting his body and coughing up blood.

Maes lifted up Roy's shirt as he was barraged by comments of onlookers in the dorm hallway. Screams and shouts echoed, but there was no stopping and controlling the mob; the hospital seemed so far away.

"Roy... why would you do this?" Maes yelled feverishly, "You stabbed your chest, oh my god you're turning blue. Oh my god," tears sprung up in Maes's eyes, falling behind him as he madly dashed through the streets. "Oh my god."

"Maes" Roy contently completed the name, not able to feel anything more than the satisfaction of completing something. "Maes, I, Mae," Roy stumbled across the words in his mind, his thoughts swimming in and out of his brain.

The hospital door was flung open and Maes screamed out to the whole hospital that the one he loved was dying. No one seemed to know what to do, they didn't have enough blood for Roy. Of course Maes stepped in and showed them his bare arm, almost shoving it into the needle that took his blood away.

And then the sky sighed with water and the rain fell down, pattering on the window as Maes pushed his head into his hands. Dark rings encircled his eyes, and the glow that once warmed his eyes was dark. "It's going to be... alright."

**This incident started a chain of events that could never stop, even after all was black and fading.**

Believe it or not, that wasn't just a drabble fic! squee! I'll continue this, don't worry! Only if you rate though, please RATE! x3

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	2. First Link

Maes slouched in the uncomfortable wooden chair, under stress and pressure that he was afraid he would take out on anything. Tears had rung from his eyes like bells, creating small spots on his shirt that ran together to form larger masses. He crinkled his red eyes up in rage and knocked the chair down with the back of his hand.

A woman in a red dress gave him a fearful look, but when he glared back at her the eyes darted away. He wasn't in the mood to be Hughes, the annoying yet lovable guy who cared so much. "I don't care." Maes said to the woman in a growling tone.

Thereon out he was left alone, although his eyes never ceased to nervously glance at everyone in the room. _I'm seeing for Roy, _Maes thought to himself. When he stood up he thought, _I'm walking for Roy._

He rubbed a gross sleeve on his face and started to grind his teeth, then he stood up with his chest puffed out. He shot a seductive and calm face at the woman and said, "Look, I'm Roy Mustang!" Then he walked up to her and kissed her hand tenderly, watching himself with horror.

"Excuse me?" she said nervously, too confused to retrieve her hand. She looked at his face and became lost in it... he looked almost attractive even if he had been crying...

Soon he found himself ridiculous and caved in to a hardy laugh that made the red woman squeal. "I'm laughing for Roy!" he cried between giggles, banging his fist into the wall.

"Uh huh..." she muttered, stroking her brown hair down with her hand and taking a pen from her purse. "Look... I think you might need some help. I'm a psychiatrist," she said, grabbing Maes's hand and scribbling on the back.

"Mister Hughes, you can come see him now if you would like," a nurse said, turning the clipboard she held in her hands. "It's room 47, I'll take you there."

The room was so fake looking; white walls, white curtains, enough pale and sickness to make someone keel over and die. It smelled cold in here although it was always warm, which Roy had liked at least. He liked the warmth, even if it couldn't compare to what he felt right now.

"Roy, why?" That question was the one he had been trying to complete in his head, but it's hard to think when you've faced death.

"Maes," Roy whispered, his face lighting up and looking happy for the first time in a long time. He couldn't move his hands, settling for the slight head motion that they had always used. Sure enough his friend walked slowly, looking down at him with awe.

"Why? Why would you... give it all up... when you know I care so much about you?" his hands ran up to his face, him fingers clutching onto it to dam out the sorrow and anger that mingled together in tears. "Just tell me."

"Maes," Roy said with concern, staring at the other man's hair and wanting to stop the shaking in his shoulders. "Yad- you don't know whaslike..." his words stumbled along like weary travelers, conversing with each other to form strange mutterings. His mind was frustrated and straining, only able to make words that he used every day.

"That promise I made to you went bother ways, you hear? I said I would help **you **reach the top, not anyone else!" he screamed, making Roy cower into his pillow.

"I'm sa- sar-sorry," Roy cried with regret, "I'm sorry..." He looked up to the blank ceiling and wondered why he actually thought he could pull this off, and why he almost did. He had so much, had Maes... why?

"Excuse me please, but you'll have to leave now mister Hughes."

When he kissed Roy goodbye, and turned the door handle he saw the number on his hand. He remembered the woman with the dress, the one who hand scrawled on his hand her name and number.

"Gracia Walsh, huh?"


End file.
